Things Will Never Be the Same

Across the Fence #512

September 11, 2001 was a beautiful, early fall day. Linda had taken the day off from her job as receptionist at Attic Angel, a large retirement and assisted living facility in Madison. We had decided to drive to Westby to see my brother, Arden, and Jan’s new baby girl, Kassie, who was four days old. I was glad to be heading out of the city because I was in need of a quiet, rural countryside fix from my deadline-driven job, operating Sherpe Advertising Art in Madison. I also had some wood carvings with that I needed to deliver to Norskedalen near Coon Valley. 

We headed out of Madison in bumper to bumper, morning rush hour traffic on the Beltline and exited on Highway 14. We were soon out of the heavy traffic and into the countryside. Most traffic was headed into Madison. I began to relax and my blood pressure began to fall as we left the city in our rearview mirror. They could take this old boy out of the country, but they were never able to take the country out of me.

We had the car radio on and were listening to music when it was suddenly interrupted for a special news bulletin. At 8:46 a.m. an airplane had crashed into one of the World Trade Center towers in New York City. No other details were available at the time. The music resumed and we didn’t think much about it. We thought it must have been a small, private plane, but how could it accidentally hit a large building in the heart of the city. Maybe it was someone committing suicide. 

Soon the music was interrupted again. More reports from New York were coming in. An American Airlines commercial jet had hit the north tower and the building was now on fire. I wasn’t familiar with New York City and flight patterns, but if an airliner hit it, it couldn’t have been an accident. Then came the news that at 9:03 a.m. a second commercial jet had hit the south tower. It looked like both planes had been hijacked and flown deliberately into the towers. It was hard to imagine what panic and chaos was going on in those buildings as we drove peacefully through the Wisconsin countryside on our way to Westby.

We listened to continuous news coverage of the tragedy that was unfolding. Then came more shocking news, a third commercial jet had crashed into the Pentagon. It appeared that America was under attack by terrorists who were hijacking passenger planes. There were reports that another airliner had been taken over and was now headed toward Washington, D.C. What prominent landmark were they hoping to destroy? We heard later that jets had been scrambled with orders to shoot the plane down. We soon heard that the plane had crashed in a field near Shanksville, Pennsylvania. We learned later the heroic passengers had tried to subdue the hijackers and regain control of the plane.

As the news reports kept coming, we were anxious to get to Westby to see our new niece, and to see what kind of television coverage was available about the attacks. When we arrived at the farm, they had the TV on. There had been continual coverage since the first plane hit the tower. None of us could believe what was happening. I thought of Pearl Harbor, and how America had been attacked by the Japanese on December 7, 1941. I wondered who we were being attacked by this time, and if September 11, 2001 would be remembered like the Pearl Harbor attack is. At the time we had no idea how extensive this attack was. Were other planes being hijacked and on their way to other targets? Were we at war, right here on our own soil? I wondered what kind of sick people would target innocent civilians and kill them in cold blood? The only thing I was sure of at the moment was that we were safe in rural Westby, far from large metropolitan areas and possible targets. 

As we watched the replays of the second plane flying into the side of the tower, Linda said she couldn’t imagine the terror the passengers must have felt as that plane headed toward the towers, with smoke and fire already billowing from one of them, and realize they were going to crash into the other tower.

I imagine most people remember where they were and what they were doing that day, when they first heard the news. I remember watching as the towers disintegrated into a gray cloud of dust as they came tumbling down. I thought of all the people who were trapped in those buildings. There was no way anyone could have survived.

Most of us in this country were safe. It was just another terrible incident in a violent world we were getting all too used to. But life would never be the same. Terrorist attacks weren’t just happening in far off parts of the world. We were very vulnerable, right here in our back yards. The attacks led to wars that we’re still fighting thirteen years later. Boarding a plane or entering a government building has drastically changed and now entails tight security checks. 

It’s a different world than the one we woke up to that morning on September 11, 2001.

*